


Realization

by Lithal



Series: KuroKen Week 2020 [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Angst, KuroKen Week, KuroKen Week 2020, M/M, Mild Angst, Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lithal/pseuds/Lithal
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Series: KuroKen Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688797
Comments: 1
Kudos: 58





	Realization

Life is a series of realizations, some creep up on you slowly, like ivy covering brick walls, while others hit you with all the force of a sucker punch. The relative numbers of each kind of realization vary from person to person, from situation to situation, from day to day. Some are better at spotting the impending realizations, while others are surprised more often than not. Some realizations are uncomfortable, some are relieving, and some change our lives forever.

Kuroo Tetsurou’s life was also a series of realizations, some trivial, some vital, all contributing to shaping him into the person he was.

He was six when he realized he loved volleyball, and that he wanted to play it for as long as he was able to. He was eight when his family moved, and he was unhappy with the move. He was shy and scared that he wouldn’t be able to make any new friends. Luckily for him, the neighbours had a kid just a year younger than him, who didn’t seem to mind when he went over and watched him play games. It was hard to get to know him at first, they were both quiet and he didn’t know where to start, but eventually they started talking, and became friends. He was still eight when he realized that he liked spending time with Kenma, who loved playing video games way too much, but also humoured him and tossed around a volleyball with him when he asked.

He was ten and working on his science project when he realized he would love to keep learning about how things worked. There was something very satisfying about gathering information and putting it together to create something that gave results.

He was twelve and watching a horror movie with Kenma when he realized that he was much more easily scared than Kenma. It was only after the movie that he realized that he had instinctively clutched Kenma’s arm in fright, and that had made the movie less scary.

He was thirteen and at the pool with his friends when they started talking about girls, and he realized that he wasn’t interested in the conversation they were having. He wondered if it meant he was interested in guys, but he didn’t find himself staring at the guys at the pool either. Perhaps he was just a late bloomer.

Over the next few years, other realizations followed: he liked teaching, he didn’t like parties, he was loud and boisterous, but it always left him tired and in need of recharging. It was as if spending time with a lot of people drained his battery. Spending time with Kenma never tired him out, and he could spend hours watching his friend play games and playing with him. They talked, about a lot of things, and Kenma knew more about him than anyone else. Probably more than even his father and grandparents. He had a feeling that there was something big related to that he should pay attention to, but he also wanted to avoid it for as long as possible.

Sometimes, the realizations that hit the hardest do so because signs have gone ignored, and things have reached the breaking point. The mind and the heart are sick of the deflection, the denial, the avoidance, and confrontation is the only option left.

Kuroo was eighteen and packing up for university when he found an old album. His father had gotten him a film camera for his eleventh birthday, and he had spent most of his allowance on film and getting it developed. He had stopped using it after about six months of near-constant use, and had never really picked it back up. Kenma had asked to borrow the camera, and probably still had it. He would have to ask him about it. He looked around his room at the half-packed boxes, and then decided to take a break from packing. He picked up the album and opened it to the first page. The very first picture was a selfie he had taken in Kenma’s room, Kenma playing a game on his handheld console, not looking at him. His own face took up one corner of the picture, his grin wide. He looked awfully pleased with himself. He remembered when he had taken the picture. It was his birthday, and his dad had left the present in his room for him to find when he woke up. He had run over to Kenma’s house as soon as he had opened his present.

The next picture was him blowing candles on a cake Kenma’s mom had baked for him, Kenma by his side. Kenma’s mom must have taken the picture. She had always welcomed him to their house, and had treated him like a second son. She sometimes even joked about him being a son she hadn’t asked for but loved anyway.

He flipped through the album. It was full of pictures he had taken, some of them ‘artsy’ shots of things like clouds and rocks and flowers, some of them selfies, some of them pictures of him and Kenma, and most of them pictures of Kenma. His album was full of pictures of Kenma. Kenma playing video games, Kenma doing homework, Kenma opening the present Kuroo had gotten him for his birthday, Kenma looking at him in fond exasperation.

As he got farther into the album, he wished he hadn’t put the camera away after just a year. Pictures were snapshots of life, moments frozen in time, and he wished he had frozen more of them. He put the album in one of his boxes, to take with him. He wouldn’t be able to see Kenma as often as he had for the past decade, and the thought made him unbearably sad. Before he could spend much thought on his feelings, his phone pinged and he saw a text from Kenma, asking him to come over. His mom had prepared a going-away dinner for Kuroo.

Seeing the words ‘going-away dinner’ made his heart ache, and he wished that he didn’t have to leave. He put the phone in his pocket and headed over to the Kozume house. He greeted Kenma’s mom, who smiled lovingly at him and told him to go ahead and have a seat at the table. Kenma came downstairs and asked him if he was done packing, and Kuroo felt something unpleasantly squeezing his chest.

The food looked amazing, and they dug in as soon as Kenma’s mom joined them. She gushed over Kuroo and how proud she was about him getting into such a good school, and asked him about his program and what classes he would be taking. Kuroo answered her, a smile on his face, but his heart still ached.

Once they were finished with dinner, she brought out a cake that said, ‘We’re proud of you, Tetsu-kun!’ and it took all of Kuroo’s willpower to not start crying at the table. After they were done with dessert and Kuroo and Kenma had helped clear away the dishes, Kenma’s mom gave Kuroo a hug, and then handed him a present, telling him to open it with Kenma. They headed upstairs, and Kuroo unwrapped the present as Kenma watched him. It was another photo album.

“You can go ahead and look at it if you want,” Kenma said, and Kuroo complied. Inside were pictures of him and Kenma, on birthdays, graduations, in Kenma’s room, outside in the yard. Kenma’s mom must have taken them. In several pictures, spanning the past few years, Kuroo saw himself looking at Kenma with what he could only describe as love. That he had feelings for Kenma wasn’t a revelation to Kuroo, but the realization that he had apparently had these feelings for _years_ hit him like a ton of bricks. There had been so many signs that he had ignored or denied or dismissed, and now these pictures were laying down evidence in front of him that he couldn’t deny.

“Kuro? What’s wrong?” Kenma asked, sounding more concerned than Kuroo had ever heard him, and to his shock, he saw a teardrop land on the back of his hand. He touched the back of his hand to his eyes, and it came away wet. “Kuro?”

And then, because Kenma always was just as good at reading him as he was at reading Kenma, moved closer and pulled him into a hug. “I’m going to miss you,” Kuroo said, his voice muffled.

“Me too,” Kenma said. “We can still text. And call. And visit.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“I know.” 

And then, his heart racing a mile a minute, Kuroo said what he should have said a while ago. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kenma said, without missing a beat. “I have for a very long time.”

Kuroo laughed through his tears. “I have too, but I just didn’t know until the realization hit me.”

“Better late than never,” Kenma answered, rubbing his back soothingly. “Mom is going to be very happy. Now she can really call you her son.”

Kuroo found himself smiling, the ache in his heart subsiding just a little.

As far as life-changing realizations went, Kuroo could not have asked for a better one. 


End file.
